Chapter 12: The Spark Catches Fire

The morning after the raised voices, the villa was too quiet.

Mara woke with Damon’s anger still ringing in her ears. She’s not part of this! He’d been defending her—or containing her. She wasn’t sure which thought unsettled her more.

When she entered the dining room, he was already there. Dressed in a black suit, no tie, his hair slightly disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it. He didn’t look up as she sat down.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Briefly.”

“What happened last night?”

His eyes lifted, dark and guarded. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“If it’s about me, I have a right to know.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s handled.”

She wanted to push, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes warned her not to. This was the Damon from the study—the Don, not the man who’d touched her cheek in the library.

They ate in silence. The only sound was the scrape of cutlery and the distant hum of a vacuum from another room.

Just as Mara was about to speak again, Elias entered.

“Boss. The car is ready.”

Damon stood, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Stay inside today,” he said to Mara, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Elias will be nearby if you need him.”

He left without another word, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Mara sat there, frustration simmering beneath her skin. She was tired of being told what to do. Tired of the secrets. Tired of feeling like a doll being moved from room to room.

She found Elias in the garden, checking the security cameras on a tablet.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.

He didn’t look up. “A lot of things.”

“Elias, please.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I heard Damon last night. He was angry. Was it about the traitor?”

Elias finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You should let this go, Mara.”

“I can’t. Not when my life is on the line.”

He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “There was an attempt to access the safe in Damon’s study last night. The alarm went off, but whoever it was got away.”

Mara’s blood ran cold. “What’s in the safe?”

“Documents. Weapons. Things that could bring this entire organization down if they fell into the wrong hands.”

“And you think it was the traitor?”

“I don’t think. I know.” He paused, his eyes scanning the garden. “The person knew the codes. Knew the patrol routes. Knew exactly when to strike.”

“So it’s someone inside. Someone close.”

“Yes.”

The word hung between them, heavy with implication.

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

“Because you’re not a prisoner here, Mara. You’re a player. And players need to know the rules.” He handed her the tablet. “Look.”

She took it, her eyes widening as she scanned the screen. It showed a live feed of the villa’s security cameras—every room, every hall, every entrance.

“Damon doesn’t know I have this,” Elias said quietly. “But if you’re going to survive, you need to see what’s really going on.”

She stared at him, her mind racing. Why was he giving this to her? Why was he risking Damon’s wrath?

“What do you want from me, Elias?”

“I want you to stay alive,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And I want you to remember that not all monsters look the part.”

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the tablet—and a thousand new questions.

She spent the next hour watching the cameras. She saw Isla dusting the library, her movements quick and nervous. She saw Marco in the kitchen, laughing with Lena. She saw the other guards patrolling the grounds, their faces blank, their eyes alert.

Everyone seemed normal. Everyone seemed innocent.

But one of them wasn’t.

Her eyes kept returning to Isla. The maid had been kind to her, but there was something in her eyes—a fear that went beyond normal nervousness. A secret she was desperate to keep.

When Mara found her later, arranging towels in the linen closet, she decided to test the waters.

“Isla,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

The maid jumped, nearly dropping the stack of towels she was holding. “Madam! You startled me.”

“I’m sorry.” Mara leaned against the doorframe, watching her closely. “I was just wondering… have you noticed anything strange lately? Around the villa?”

Isla’s eyes darted toward the hall before returning to the towels. “Strange how?”

“I don’t know. People where they shouldn’t be. Things moved. That kind of thing.”

Isla shook her head, but her hands were trembling. “No. Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Mara pressed gently. “Because I heard there was an incident last night. In Damon’s study.”

The maid went very still. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Isla…” Mara stepped closer, lowering her voice. “If you’re in trouble, I can help you.”

For a moment, Isla’s mask slipped, and Mara saw raw fear in her eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice tight. “But thank you.”

She pushed past Mara and hurried down the hall, leaving her alone in the linen closet.

Mara’s heart ached. Isla was hiding something—she was sure of it. But was she the traitor? Or was she just another victim in Damon’s dangerous world?

Damon returned just before dinner. Mara heard his car pull up, heard his sharp footsteps on the marble floor, heard the low murmur of his voice as he spoke with Elias.

She waited for him in the library, the tablet hidden under a cushion. She didn’t know why she was keeping it a secret, but something told her it was better that way.

He entered the room, his expression weary.

“Mara,” he said, his voice rough. “I thought you’d be in your room.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If this is about last night—”

“It’s about Isla.”

His eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“I think she’s scared. I think she’s hiding something.”

A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “Isla has been with this family for years. She’s loyal.”

“Are you sure?” Mara stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because the way she acts… it’s not loyalty. It’s fear.”

Damon studied her, his gaze intense. “You’re learning.”

The words should have felt like a compliment. Instead, they felt like a warning.

“What if she’s being threatened?” Mara pressed. “What if someone is forcing her to betray you?”

“Then she should have come to me.”

“Maybe she’s afraid of what you’ll do.”

His expression darkened. “I protect my own, Mara. Always.”

“Do you?” She took a step toward him. “Or do you just control them?”

The air between them crackled with tension. For a moment, she thought he might snap—might yell, might threaten, might remind her just how dangerous he could be.

Instead, he smiled. A cold, hollow smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re starting to see,” he said. “This world… it doesn’t reward kindness. It rewards strength.”

“And is that what you are? Strong?”

“I’m what I need to be.” He closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “And so are you.”

His touch was gentle, but his eyes were hard. She could feel the power in him—the violence, the control, the ruthlessness. But she could also feel the pain. The loneliness. The boy who’d lost everything and built walls to keep from losing more.

She leaned into his touch, her heart aching for that boy.

“I’m not your enemy, Damon.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “You are my wife.”

He dropped his hand and turned away, walking to the window. “I have to go back to the city tonight. There’s a meeting.”

“With who?”

“People who want me dead.” He said it so casually, as if discussing the weather. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back by morning.”

She wanted to beg him to stay. To tell him it wasn’t worth it—the power, the money, the control. None of it was worth his life.

But she knew he wouldn’t listen. This was who he was. Who he had to be.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

He glanced back at her, a faint smile touching his lips. “Always.”

Then he was gone.

Mara stood there for a long time, staring at the empty doorway. The villa felt colder without him. Emptier.

She retrieved the tablet from under the cushion and turned it on, her eyes scanning the cameras. She saw Elias in the security room, his face grim. She saw Isla in the kitchen, wiping down counters with shaky hands. She saw the guards at the gate, their postures stiff, their eyes watchful.

And she saw herself—a small, lonely figure in a library that was too big, in a world that was too dangerous.

But she wasn’t afraid anymore.

She was angry.

And anger, she was starting to learn, was a weapon.

She tucked the tablet under her arm and headed for the door. It was time to stop being a pawn.

It was time to start playing the game.